“Louise, let me see that loupe you’ve got on hand.”
The gift shop clerk, a spry senior citizen, reached below the counter and pulled out the now-familiar magnification tool. “Now, don’t you go forgetting you borrowed that, Fergie.”
Paige smiled at the clerk’s use of a nickname for the guide.
“Let’s go look at this coin a little closer,” Ferguson said. He headed to a doorway in the far corner of the gift shop. Paige waved at Jake and motioned for him to join them.
The modest back room was approximately twelve by fifteen feet, large enough for several shelves of reference books and a rectangular table in the center. A variety of work tools spread across the table: a microscope, several lamps, an assortment of magnifying glasses, small bottles of liquid, and a tray filled with cotton gloves. Paige wasn’t sure if the paraphernalia made her feel more hopeful or just nervous. She reached for Jake’s hand, glad that he’d followed her into the room.
“Don’t let all this stuff intimidate you,” Ferguson said. “The equipment helps us identify coins.”
“Well, as you suggested when you first saw the coin, I know this is a Double Eagle. It’s dated 1926 and that ‘D’ means it was made in Denver. It’s gold, mostly. Ninety percent gold and ten percent copper, I believe.” Paige straightened up, proud of her limited yet accurate knowledge.
“Yes,” Ferguson agreed. “You’ve got the basics down. Sounds like you’ve done some research. Many people think gold coins are pure gold. Or that silver coins are one hundred percent silver.”
“That wouldn’t be strong enough, would it?” Paige asked.
“Exactly right,” Ferguson said as he slipped his hands into cotton gloves from the nearby tray. “If the coins weren’t made of an alloy, they couldn’t withstand circulation.”
“They don’t do too well on railroad tracks as it is,” Jake said.
Both Paige and Ferguson sent him disapproving looks.
“So I’ve heard, anyway,” Jake added quickly.
“Where did you get this coin?” Ferguson said. He focused his attention on a microscope, where he’d placed the coin for closer inspection. Turning on a small light mounted on the inside of the neck, he rested his eyes against the equipment’s dual eyepieces.
“I found it,” Paige said, deciding to stick with the simple answer she’d offered in Silverton. For the second time, she’d been asked where she found the coin before being told anything about it. “On the ground, in the dirt.” This, at least, was true.
A moment passed quietly as Ferguson inspected both sides of the coin, as well as the rim.
“Fascinating, isn’t it?” Paige said to break the silence.
“Absolutely,” Ferguson agreed. He straightened up, pushed away from the microscope, and detached a walkie-talkie from a strap inside his jacket. Holding a button down on the side, he brought the radio to his mouth. “Simons, I have something you’ll want to see.”
Jake cast a protective glance at Paige and looked at the guide. “Who is Simons?”
Ferguson patted the air with his hand, as if to say not to worry. “Just someone else who works here.” He turned to face Paige and Jake, a calm, pleased expression on his face. “I think you folks have a special coin here. I just want to get another opinion.”
“Great,” Paige said, her enthusiasm growing. This certainly beat the sleazy reaction they’d received in Silverton. Hopefully they were about to get some decent insight.
It only took a minute for the newcomer to arrive.
“What is it, Ferguson?”
Of all the figures Paige might have imagined coming through the doorway, a man in a blue uniform with badge and holstered gun was nowhere on that list. He was broad-shouldered, sturdy and serious.
“Wait a minute,” Jake said. “What’s going on here?”
“This is Officer Simons,” Ferguson said. “He’s a member of the U.S. Mint Police. He’s a detective. As am I.”
“You’re a police officer? A detective? Not a guide?” Paige wondered if it were possible to be any more confused than she already was. She’d thought the trip to Silverton was strange, but this experience now far surpassed the visit with Chancy Conroy.
“I fill in as a guide when they’re short-handed,” Ferguson explained. “Someone called in sick this morning.”
Paige nodded as if this information was important to her, though it wasn’t.
“Why don’t you two take a seat?” Officer Simons said, his expression unreadable. He pointed to two chairs at the table.
Paige and Jake exchanged looks. As they took places at the table, Officer Simons did the same. Ferguson remained where he was, setting the microscope with the coin still in it aside.
“I don’t understand what’s going on,” Paige blurted out. She shook off Jake’s arm as he reached out to calm her before she could say anything she might regret. “What exactly have we done wrong?”
“You haven’t done anything wrong,” Ferguson said. “You’re not in trouble. I just wanted Simons here because he’ll have questions.”
“Right.” Simons nodded, though Paige could tell he was just supporting Ferguson. He had no more idea what was going on than she and Jake did.
Ferguson took the coin out from under the microscope and set it on the table.
“I believe this coin is from a batch that was stolen.”
“Stolen!” Paige exclaimed, jumping up. “You’ve got to be kidding…” She paused, noting Officer Simons’ stern expression and sat back down. “OK, obviously you aren’t kidding. But I…we…have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I know that,” Ferguson said. “Like I said, you aren’t in trouble. Let me explain.”
Both Ferguson and Simons’ expressions softened. Paige felt slightly relieved, though still uncomfortable enough to cross her arms and chew on her bottom lip.
“I assure you we didn’t steal anything,” Paige said.
“Obviously not,” Ferguson said, holding back a grin. “This happened ninety years ago. That would have been quite a feat for you to pull off.”
“So tell us,” Jake said.
“Ninety years ago…of course, in 1926,” Paige reasoned. “The year the coin was minted.”
“Exactly,” Officer Simons said. “A small batch went missing.”
“Define ‘small.’” Jake said.
“Our records show twenty-six pieces,” Ferguson said. “That’s small enough that someone could walk out with them hidden in their clothing.”
“I wouldn’t think someone could just walk out,” Jake said. “Don’t you have strict security here? Isn’t this where the expression, ‘as secure as Fort Knox’ comes from?”
“Absolutely correct,” Ferguson said.
“That was almost a century ago,” Paige pointed out. “Maybe it wasn’t as secure then?”
Both officers looked at Paige as if she’d uttered blasphemy. She quickly backtracked. “I mean to say, I’m sure the Mint has always been secure, but maybe the procedures were different back then?”
Officer Ferguson shook his head. “Nothing that would have allowed someone to walk out unnoticed. That’s why we’ve always known it had to be an inside job.”
“An inside job?” Paige asked. She leaned forward, forearms against the table, her curiosity growing.
“Someone inside the building at the time,” Ferguson continued. “An employee may have pulled it off. Or he could have turned a blind eye when the theft occurred, expecting to get cut in on the deal. Who knows? The authorities suspected one guard in particular, but an investigation led nowhere. He was cleared.”
“And they never found any of the coins?” Paige asked.
“Not until now,” Officer Simons said. “Which is why it’s important you tell us where you found this.”
“And ‘in the dirt’ isn’t quite enough,” Ferguson added.
Paige sighed. “I found it behind the railroad museum in Hutchins Creek. And it was in the dirt. That’s truly all I
know.” She paused. “Are you sure this isn’t a replica after all?”
“Almost positive,” Ferguson said. “But we’ll do more testing to be sure.”
“I take it we’re leaving it with you?” Paige sighed. “This will make a certain little girl very unhappy.” She told the officers the story about Sam and her “bird.”
“I have an idea,” Ferguson said. He left the room and returned shortly with a replica coin from the gift shop. “It’s a different year, but otherwise looks exactly the same. I think this ‘bird’ will do the trick.”
“Thanks,” Paige said. “A great idea. Let me pay you for this.”
“Not necessary,” Officer Simons smiled. “I suspect we got the better end of the deal.”
“If it checks out the way you think it will, I’d say you’re right,” Jake agreed.
After a few formalities and exchanges of names and phone numbers, Ferguson and Simons escorted Paige and Jake to the exit.
“Thanks for your help,” Ferguson said, shaking Paige’s hand. “I’m sorry to blindside you like that. I’d also like to ask you to keep this quiet and not to pursue it on your own.”
“Of course,” Paige said, causing Jake to cough.
“Water?” Ferguson pointed to a drinking fountain in the hallway.
“No, no, I’m fine,” Jake insisted as Paige elbowed him.
Paige turned back to the officers just before they pulled the door closed.
“Just one last question, officers,” she asked. “Do either of you know the name of the guard who was cleared?”
Ferguson scratched his head and looked at Officer Simons. “Fred? Or was it Frank?”
Officer Simons’ brow furrowed. “I don’t recall.”
“It was Frank, I think…” Ferguson finally said. “Yes, his name was Frank Conroy.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Paige looked out the window. The long drive, the surprising discovery at the Denver Mint, and their stop at the Colorado Railroad Museum, had all taken their toll on her, and she could barely keep her eyes open. Yet she juggled too many thoughts to be able to sleep.
“What time is it?” Paige leaned over to check the clock in the dashboard and answered her own question. “Four o’clock. How much longer?”
“We’re still a couple of hours away from Hutchins Creek.” Jake said. “About twenty minutes closer than the last time you asked. Those two full hours we spent at the railroad museum definitely stretched the day out.”
“True, but that was important for my work. I need to type out my outlines and send them to Susan to see which angle she prefers. Besides, I wanted to learn more about the Denver-Rio Grande line. I have a feeling the story behind this coin and the railroad history might tie together.”
Jake shot Paige a quick glance. “How is that?”
Paige turned sideways and rested her left elbow on the seat back. “You remember when Rose first told us about the Hutchins family, about each generation going back?”
“You mean the ones where they forgot to name someone ‘Jake’?”
“Very funny,” Paige sighed, too tired to laugh.
“Yes, I remember,” Jake said. “They all worked for the railroad, even the original Hutchins who founded the town.”
Paige nodded. “Right. But a couple did odd jobs, too, remember?”
“You’re right. Which ones?”
“Jasper and Jerome, I think,” Paige said. “Jesse’s grandfather and father. Jed’s son and grandson.”
“Well, I’m glad you have that straight, because I sure don’t.” Jake braked abruptly to let a deer cross the road, and then breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m glad it’s still light out. This wouldn’t be an easy drive at night.”
“Jed, Jasper, Jerome, Jesse.” Paige recited the chronological order of Hutchins men.
“It just sounds like a tongue twister to me,” Jake said. “Speaking of names, what about the guard back then? Frank Conroy? It’s awfully coincidental that he and that coin dealer share a last name.”
“I agree. Frank Conroy? Chancy Conroy? They could definitely be related. Odd that Chancy never mentioned a family connection with the Mint, though.”
Jake shook his head, but kept his eyes on the road. “Doesn’t strike me as odd at all. Think about it, Paige. That guard was involved in a scandal. Why would a relative offer that information upfront, especially to people he’d just met? I wouldn’t start a conversation with that.”
“Makes sense,” Paige admitted. “And once he saw the coin, he wasn’t about to say anything.” She paused. “But if he and Frank are related, that would explain why he acted so strangely once he saw the coin. It also explains why he didn’t want to give it back.”
“Sounds like someone with a guilty conscience, don’t you think, Paige?”
“Yes, but I think it’s more complicated than that. Obviously Chancy isn’t the guard who worked there. He’s too young.”
“So he’s the son of that guard,” Jake said. “Or maybe even the grandson.”
“Let’s see,” Paige calculated. “That was ninety years ago. So if Frank Conroy worked there in his twenties, and Chancy was born when Frank was in his forties, that would make Chancy around seventy now.”
“Sounds about right.”
Paige nodded. “He looked around that age, maybe a little older. One thing is certain: Chancy didn’t take the coins. But his father could have.”
“If they’re related, that is,” Jake pointed out.
“Exactly.” Paige rubbed her temples, feeling a dull headache coming on. “But Ferguson and Simons, the detectives, said Frank Conroy was cleared.”
“Doesn’t mean he didn’t do it,” Jake said. “But that would be quite a caper to pull off without getting caught.”
“Well, he was the guard. It might have been easier for him to get away with the theft than for someone else,” Paige said. “Anyone else would have had to pass by him in order to get out.”
“He couldn’t have been the only guard,” Jake said. “Not for a place that big and that important. Maybe several guards were in on it together split the coins up afterwards.”
“Maybe.”
Paige closed her eyes and leaned back against the head rest, silent. Everything was conjecture at this point. The only solid fact was that coins went missing that year. Who took them and how they managed it were questions with dozens of possible answers. They weren’t even certain the coin found behind the Hutchins Creek Museum came from that batch of stolen coins. If it did, why weren’t there more? Or were there? She made a mental note to ask Sam if she’d found any other “birds” yet.
By the time they reached Silverton, Paige had formed a half dozen theories, some logical, some not. If Sam’s coin was from the stolen batch, someone might have hidden it in the museum yard temporarily. Or any visitor to the museum, a stranger who found it elsewhere, could have dropped it. Chancy could even have done it, for that matter, though Frank and Chancy might not even be related. Conroy was a common enough name. Which just meant Chancy was a weird, old man, not a thief – or descendant of a thief. The possibilities were endless.
“Pull off here,” Paige said, pointing to an exit.
“Really, Paige? I don’t think going to the coin shop again is a good idea. And we’ve only got another hour to go. Don’t you want to get back to the inn to relax? And aren’t you hungry? It’s already past seven.”
“I’m sure Chancy’s shop is closed,” Paige pointed out. “But the ice cream parlor might be open. Maybe they serve sandwiches.” She turned to Jake and gave him one of her more pleading looks.
“You expect me to believe you simply want to visit the ice cream shop? Or have a sandwich for dinner?”
“Why not?”
Jake laughed. “Because I’ve known you for almost a year now, and you wanting to stop by a place that’s next to a location involving one of your mysteries is never random.”
“Maybe I just feel like that butter pecan we didn’t get last time.”<
br />
“Nice try, but not buying it.”
Paige sighed. “OK, I just want to look, maybe drive around the block. Humor me. It’ll only take a few minutes. It’s not that much out of our way.”
Given Jake’s hesitance, Paige was surprised when he actually took the exit. Inwardly, she patted herself on the back for convincing him. She’d always had a knack for charming people into doing things, a trait with both positive and negative repercussions. She scooted closer to him and thanked him with a sweet kiss on the cheek.
It took only a couple of minutes to locate Chancy’s store again, which was, as they expected, closed. But the ice cream parlor was open.
“You’re not really going to have ice cream this close to dinner, are you?”
Paige laughed. “Now you’re my dad? No, I’m not. I’d love to take some to Rose, but it would melt before we get there. How about popping in for coffee, just for five or ten minutes, and then getting back on the road?”
“I can go for that,” Jake said. “A little caffeine before those last miles isn’t a bad idea.”
Jake parked the car in front of the ice cream parlor and escorted Paige inside. A dozen customers sat at old-fashioned tables in the ‘50s style interior. Shelving held nostalgic items such as vintage toys, mason jars and kitchen gadgets. Metal Coca-Cola signs and kitchen utensils filled other wall spaces. A gum ball machine stood near the front door.
As the counter clerk began to take their order, Paige asked for coffee with light cream and sugar, plus “whatever he’d like.” Before Jake could say a word, she added, “Be right back. Grab us a table,” and she slipped out the front door. Without even looking back, she knew Jake was shaking his head at her ploy to get away.
Although she was tempted to peek in the front windows of the coin shop, Paige ruled it out. She had no reason to believe anyone would be watching her, but it seemed too risky a move. Noting a narrow space between the two buildings, she turned sideways and wriggled her way through until she emerged into a back alley. Shaking off claustrophobia from the tight passageway, she took a deep breath and looked around.
Paige MacKenzie Mysteries Box Set Page 66